


There is No Wrong Way

by thalialunacy



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Fish out of Water, M/M, Polyamory, Shower Sex, Wanking Comment Fest, wanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-03-30
Packaged: 2017-12-06 23:45:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/741580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thalialunacy/pseuds/thalialunacy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris spends a week at Casa de Urban, where the water is backwards and the furniture is abused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There is No Wrong Way

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alby_mangroves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alby_mangroves/gifts).



> Okay so this was prompted by alby_mangroves's love of wanking, only… she prompted something 99.9% different, and my muse wandered off like a toddler. Even so, she did supply the perfect title, because she's awesome like that. Also, it was supposed to be a drabble. I don't know. I do know that I directly quoted _Sports Night_. Twice. Tell me you're surprised.

He's not new at this, okay; he's been to Australia and New Zealand for press, and for a brief vacation that one time with his mom. (Which he will never do again because she was _thisclose_ to guilting him into going on a _Rings_ tour with her, which, just, no. No.) So he's seen the sails at the Auckland airport and dealt with the jet lag and the accents and the way they drive. He's non-nonplussed by most of it.

He still spends the first day watching the toilet flush the wrong way.

Because it's weird as fuck.

He pushes the button again. His ass is getting cold from sitting on the edge of the tub, he notices. He's trying to decide whether or not he cares, when there's a knock at the door. 

"Chris?" Natalie's voice wafts through. "Not trying to be rude, just wanted you to know we're leaving."

Because Karl's family is like that, all up in each other's business. In the three days he's been here, been in Karl & Natalie's house like some kind of alcoholic au pair, Chris has witnessed them walking in on each other showering, changing, peeing, sleeping, whatever. Chris's own family barely eats in the same room without feeling awkward, so it's nice of her to make a concession for him, really. Despite how it still makes him feel like he's been caught with his fingers up his ass.

He stands up and opens the door with a slight apologetic twist of his lips. "Sorry, I was just—" He gestures at the toilet, makes a circle motion with his finger. "Watching."

She laughs, and it's a pleasant sound. Not boisterous, just lovely. "Don't apologize, I do the same thing every time I go to above the equator." She gestures over her shoulder with her thumbs. "Do you—?"

"Oh yeah, totally," Chris says easily, holding the door while she turns, then following her through the house to the front hall, where their bags are all waiting. It's less than Chris expected for one lady and two kids, and that probably shows on his face.

"Not so much with the high maintenance, this family," Karl says with an easy grin as he hoists one of the bags into the Range Rover. "And their grandmother gives them more stuff than they could ever need, anyway, so it's not like they're wanting for anything."

He turns to Natalie after the last bag is up. "All right?"

She nods, and he kisses her, and Chris is mostly filled with fondness for this quirky second (third? fifteenth?) family of his.

Then she turns to him, puts her hands on his shoulders so she can pull up and kiss his cheek. He feels his neck start to heat up. Blames it on the sun.

She pulls back, and looks between him and Karl. "Have fun, all right?" And there's no chance she's not talking about him and Karl fucking on whatever surface they can find. "Don't—" She says this with a turn up of her lips and a decided twinkle in her eye. "—break anything. Furniture or otherwise."

Chris is pretty much embarrassed beyond belief at this point, but Karl just laughs good-naturedly and kisses her one last time on the forehead.

Then he herds the kids into the Rover, and with a wave and a plume of dust, they are off.

Chris is left standing there with Karl, a huge empty house, and two days with absolutely nothing on the schedule.

First thing he does, he'll never admit to. He and Karl are both still watching the Rover wind down the road, then there's a comfortable silence while they let it soak in, and Chris just reaches over, not turning his body or his gaze, and hooks their pinkies together.

When he finally turns, it's to see Karl looking at him, fond affection in his eyes and smile. Chris isn't sure quite what to say, because the urge to seem erudite is battling with his urge to get laid. Luckily, Karl takes care of that, with a smirk and a dorky pose:

"Race you."

\---

They don't break anything. At least, Chris doesn't think so, although the coffee table is probably now on its last legs. Literally, Chris thinks with a snort, and almost texts Quinto but is distracted by his bladder on the way to look for his phone. It's important to stay hydrated during 24 hours of marathon sex, okay. He's actually impressed he's got to pee at all.

He finds his phone on the way, and is then too distracted by _it_ to realize that the shower in the bathroom is running. "Oh—fuck—" he gets out as soon as he's through the door. "Sorry."

Karl sticks his head around the curtain. "No worries." His reaches up and swipes his bangs off his forehead, and shoots a smile at Chris.

Chris clears his throat and jerks his chin to the right. "I'll just… go use the other one."

"Why? You don't have to."

"I don't—Karl, yes I do. I have to pee. And I am not part of your strange family with your weird hippie habits—"

He barely has time to register the movement before Karl's got a hand on his arm and is hauling him inexorably towards the shower. He doesn't pull him _in_ to it, just close enough to rub wetness into him. "Yes, you are, you wanker, and you know it. So just get used to it, warts and all."

And he smacks a kiss onto Chris's mouth, a mouth which is admittedly a little slack with surprise but gets with the program quickly, distracting him from Karl's words.

Until Karl finishes the kiss and pushes Chris back. "Go on," he says, but Chris is still kind of stuck. It's no longer philosophical as much as it's practical— He's doesn't precisely have a shy bladder, he's just… not sure how it would go at this point. Although the shower sound does mask most everything, and it's not like he needs to drop a deuce…

"I said go on, Mr Prissy-Pants. I even promise not to listen."

Well, when put that way… "Fine," Chris says, unzipping his jeans, "but you asked for it."

He watches the stream hit the water in the bowl, and although his cheeks are a little red, for sure, it's not as bad as he'd thought it'd be. "Alright, Urban," he calls out as he's shaking off and tucking in, "this hazing ritual is over."

He should've known better.

Karl's dimples peek out from behind the curtain. "No, it's not."

Chris stops in the middle of zipping. "What now?"

Karl tilts his head to indicate the shower behind him. "Get in."

Chris shakes his head with a smirk. Karl knows he has a thing about shower sex. Meaning, he doesn't do it. Ever. He's no klutz but seriously, the likelihood of _braining oneself_ is just way too high. "No, Karl, we've talked about this, it just doesn't—"

"Doesn't work, I know, physics, blah blah." He holds out his hand; water drips onto the bathmat. "Get in."

Chris eyes him. "No one's going to break their neck?"

"Promise."

"I don’t actually need a shower, you know—"

"Christopher."

"—yessir." And his hands are at his zipper, undoing the work they just did. The power of Karl compels him, what can he say.

He's reaching for his t-shirt when he feels Karl's wet hands helping him. Water drops cold on his abs, and makes him grunt, and then his briefs are on the floor and he's cold _every_ where—but no matter, because Karl's got a firm grip on his arm as he guides him into the shower and under the spray.

Chris wets himself down, then blinks at Karl. "Well, I'm warmer, at least. Now where's the entertainment?"

He's joking. He's totally joking. But Karl, fucking Karl, gets a very serious look on his face. The Srs Sexy Bsns Face, Chris calls it in his head sometimes, because he's a douche.

So he tries to kiss the expression off Karl's face, quickly and affectionately, but Karl's tongue slips into this mouth, Karl's hand runs across his abs to his pubic hair, and suddenly he's invested. He's reaching out, one hand to steady himself on Karl's shoulder, the other to reciprocate. And he's fine—more than fine—until, like he knew would happen, he starts to lose the ability to keep himself upright.

"Karl," he mutters warningly against stupidly plush lips. "Bodily harm."

"Hmm." The noise thrums across Chris's mouth. "Well," he says, drawing back a little. "You did say you wanted entertainment." And he leans against the wall behind him, grabs his cock, and grins.

Chris groans. He shuffles over carefully and runs his lips over Karl's jaw roughly. "How do you even exist?"

"Sorcery. Now shut up and watch."

His hand starts to move, and he's got that _look_ in his eye, that look like Chris is Christmas dinner, and Chris's family is weird and has tacos for Christmas usually and _why_ is he thinking of tacos when Karl is _touching himself_. His hand moves slowly on his cock at first, not teasing, just warming up. His free hand moves lazily, across his stomach, then up to his chest, and Chris bites his tongue as Karl tweaks a nipple. He feels himself heating up, which is par for the Urban course, but chooses to ignore it in favor of enjoying the show.

And it starts to become a show, indeed. Karl, as should be no surprise, enjoys the hell out of the build-up, biting his lip and exhaling heavily into the wet air. Once he's fully hard, he plants his feet and just _goes for it_ , and the sounds of skin and water and grunts are music in Chris's ears. He watches Karl's face as he comes, tight and beautiful, and says goodbye to any pretension he had that he wasn't hopelessly in love with this man.

He reaches out as Karl rides out his orgasm, unable to stand back any longer. He soothes kisses across Karl's jaw, lazily kissing his open lips, trailing his tongue inside just for the warmth. Karl kisses him back, earnest and genuine, and Chris's heart feels like it's going to explode.

He pulls back and leans their foreheads together. "Always wondered if you do that backwards, too," he says, because he's a dick who can't talk about feelings.

Karl's chuckle is full of satisfaction, and satisfying… Or so Chris thinks until Karl's hand is on _Chris's_ cock.

"You—" Chris gets out, but Karl stops him by looping an arm securely around his torso, gathering him in close and secure.

"I've got you," he murmurs into Chris's ear.

And Chris is a fucking goner.

The water raining down on his back, the warmth of Karl's chest, breath in his ear, arm holding him in… His orgasm is warm and lazy and fucking fantastic.

He hangs there for a moment, pliant in Karl's arms and trying not to be embarrassed by it. This family is a piece of work. And he's part of it, now. 

That thought makes him push off the wall. He kisses Karl thank you, then turns them both to the spray to get them cleaned up.

He rubs his hands over his face, and— "Fuck," he says on a wheezy laugh.

"What?"

"My contact. One of them's—" He points towards the drain. There's too much water to tell but he knows that it's going backwards and it makes him pause. He shoves his sodden hair off his forehead. "Down the drain by now, probably."

"Oh, well, you brought more, didn't you?"

Chris just grunts a reply, as he's pushing a finger around up his now-blind eyeball like a champ. Just to make sure it's not still in there, because that happens, okay, although he's pretty sure it hasn't happened this time.

Karl chuckles and pulls at Chris's wrist. "You are awful at being an adult sometimes."

Chris squints up at him. "Yarrr."

Karl pulls Chris up until they're chest to chest. "On the other hand," he says, landing kisses on Chris's cheekbones, around his eye sockets. "This just means you'll have to wear those ridiculous glasses for the rest of the trip."

"You like them?"

"God, no," Karl says with a shake of his head. But his lips are twitching. "They're too ironic to exist, really."

"You're bluffing so hard it's comin' out your ears," Chris says. Then he rubs his eye again. "Ow."

Karl rolls his eyes and reaches around Chris for a towel. "Awful."

\---

When the rest of the brood get back, there's a new coffee table.

\---

They look tired from the travel, but happy, and they brought back loads of new stuff, just as predicted. Chris helps them unload, and finds himself face to face with Natalie.

"Hi," she says to him. Her expression is warm but a little guarded still, and Chris isn't alright with it anymore.

"Welcome home," he says without hesitation, then he kisses her on the cheek. And his smile is genuine.

\---

A day later, he's in the bathroom packing up his things, not looking forward to the zillion-hour flight back. Amongst his toiletries are an empty box of condoms and like three empty bottles of lube, and he nearly doubles over with his laughter because his life. How did it become this?

How is he so lucky?

The door opens with a whoosh, and suddenly Chris is holding lube and staring at a wide-eyed Natalie.

"Oh, God, Chris, I'm sorry!" she sputters, her hands moving around rapidly as she backs out of the room. "I— I forget we're kind of—strange—"

"Nat, it's okay," he says quickly, reaching out to put a reassuring hand on her arm. He's never used the nickname before, but it's out his mouth before he realizes it.

She realizes, though. And she looks at him, really looks at him, and he tries not to fidget. With the lube bottle. Christ.

Then she smiles, and it's without a trace of pretense or worry. His heart expands three sizes.

He drops the stuff into the tiny bathroom garbage can, picks up his bag, and holds out his arm with a little bow. "Shall we?"

She nods. Her eyes are twinkling. "We shall."

**_fin_ **


End file.
